


Dean's Birthday

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: During Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-05
Updated: 2007-04-05
Packaged: 2018-09-03 10:58:30
Rating: Teen & Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8709787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: "Dean is perpetually freezing here in the land of ten-foot-high snowdrifts, but Sam's like a furnace."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

_**It's Dean's birthday!**_  
WOO. \o/  
  
  
  
Montana _sucks._  
  
Well, no. Actually, the whole world sucks, but Montana most of all. It’s kind of an island of super-suck in a sea of suck.  
  
Possibly he’s taking this metaphor a little too far.  
  
The problem, see, is that Montana is _cold._  
  
“C’mere,” Dean mutters, grabbing a fistful of Sam’s shirt and pulling him in.  
  
Dean is perpetually freezing here in the land of ten-foot-high snowdrifts, but Sam’s like a furnace. Dean sticks his hands under Sam’s armpits and grins when he squirms.  
  
“Hold still, Sammy,” he says, entwining their legs. Sam obeys, only glaring a little, and soon Dean’s sliding his hands up Sam’s back and into his hair.  
  
“Mmm,” he says, pulling Sam down for a kiss. “Warm.”  
  
Sam laughs against Dean’s mouth and settles down beside him. “Sorry,” he says, resting a hand on top of Dean’s. “Probably should’ve waited a few weeks to go on this job.”  
  
“Damn straight.” Dean moves until his head is resting against Sam’s shoulder. Fuck cuddling, this is heat conservation. “Didn’t even get a cupcake.”  
  
It’s an old joke of theirs; Sam snorts and kisses Dean’s head. “Sorry, bro,” he says, and lets the pie fly.  
  
It hits Dean square in the face, filling and whipped cream dripping down. For a second he’s stunned—then he sticks out his tongue and licks some of the filling, and Sam starts laughing hysterically.  
  
He straddles Sam, hands blindly groping until he finds Sam’s shoulders and can pin him down. He shakes his head, wipes it on his arm, until he can open his eyes again.  
  
Sam’s laughing, his entire body shaking beneath Dean. Cream and filling dot his face.  
  
Dean can’t help himself: he smiles, snorts, and then laughs, bending down to kiss Sam. The pie filling smears over them both.  
  
“Happy birthday,” Sam says, his sincerity only a little marred by the dallop of strawberry crème on his nose.  
  
And weirdly enough, it is.


End file.
